Husband and Wife Tales
by LM Simpson
Summary: A collection of 52 Zob and Greta fics, all originally written for the 52 flavours community on LJ. DISCONTINUED
1. Little Bluebird Learned to Fly

**Little Bluebird Learned to Fly**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters in this piece of fiction. No money is being made by doing this.

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): Recently, I somehow found myself upon a fanfic community on LiveJournal called 52 flavours. The goal is to be able to write fifty-two one-shots (basically one fic a week for a year), based on either a specific series or non-slash pairing, using the themes they have provided. I instantly became intrigued, and decided to write for the challenge even though the chances of me finishing it before December 31st would be nil. After a few minutes of picking specific pairings, I decided to write the challenges for ZobxGreta, for a variety of reasons. This is the first one; wish me luck on further ones. My flame and toast policies still apply (see my profile for the former).

Enjoy!

**Theme One: Kan, ya ma kan (Translation: Once there was, and once there was not.)**

0000

It only seemed like yesterday…

Zob woke up, smelling the unmistakable scent of bacon cooking.

"Gee, it's early," he thought after looking at the clock. He attempted to go back to sleep for even a few minutes, but failed to do so after a couple of seconds each time. Giving up, he yawned and half-sleepily walked downstairs.

Greta was switching from taking toast out of the toaster to working on the bacon when she heard a voice say, "Smells good."

She turned around. "'Morning, dear."

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Sure," she replied, pointing at the plate of toast, "you can help me with the toast."

As she got back to the bacon, Zob placed two more pieces of bread into the toaster and began buttering a couple of slices. All was quiet in the house, except for the sizzling bacon and Zick snoring upstairs.

Zob noticed his wife was crying as she placed the finished bacon on another plate and began on the eggs.

"Greta? Is something wrong? Did some of the grease spatter on you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she replied, rubbing an eye, "it's just that… today's the day…"

Zob felt his heart sink. How could he have forgotten that Zick was moving out later that day?

"I'm worried…" Greta continued, "that Zick might get too busy to see us, or move somewhere faraway and never see us again, or get himself stuck in some trouble and—"

Zob hugged her. "Greta… You know Zick would never do that to us… And let's face it—Zick's young; he's bound to get in trouble sometime. And when he does, he should be able to get out of it…"

Greta didn't speak for a moment. "Yeah, you're right," she softly said with a slight smile.

She looked back at the scrambled eggs. "Oh, no!" she cried as she turned off the stove and removed the burnt eggs. "Hmm… And I just used all the eggs we had…"

"Is the store open?" Zob asked.

"Probably."

"I'll be right back then," he said, leaving the kitchen.

Before exiting, he heard Greta still working on breakfast. He turned his head around. "Don't worry—I'll take care of the rest. Just relax for now; you look like you need to get some sleep."

Greta stood there, holding a butter knife as she heard the front door swing and slam. After buttering a slice of toast, she placed the knife on the counter, went to the living room, and plopped onto the love seat in relief.

0000

"Say, son…"

"Yeah, Dad?" Zick after a short while later as he bit into his toast.

"Did you pack everything yet?"

"Um… No, not yet…"

"Why not?" His mother asked.

Zick shrugged. "I don't know; I probably just forgot."

"Well, you got a long ride ahead of you, so I suggest you get packing as soon as you're done eating."

"I will, Mom," he said as he finished his last bite of toast. He moved on to the eggs and took a bite. "You made these, Dad? They're actually pretty good."

"Thanks, son," Zob replied, thinking about the amount of eggs he had carelessly burnt before the eggs his son were eating were prepared.

"How was your toast and bacon?" Greta asked.

Zick smiled. "Just the way my mom knows I like 'em."

Greta felt her eyes watering and hugged her son, emitting a sob. "I'm going to miss you so much…"

"I will too, Mom, I will too," he said, patting her back.

He let go of her and got up from the table. "It's getting closer to 'that' time; I'm going to start packing upstairs. See you in an hour…"

0000

"Did you pack a jacket?" Greta asked Zick almost two hours later.

"Yup."

"Is there a map in the glove compartment?"

"Yes, Mom."

"A spare everything?"

"I checked it all with Dad."

Zob entered the foyer. "The oil and engine are fine!"

"So I guess I'm good to go?"

"Yeah, pretty much…"

_Whoa, _Zick thought, _it's really almost time… _"Where's everybody else?"

Zick suddenly heard his grandmother say, "We're right behind you, dear."

Turning around, he saw his grandparents, Timothy, and the monsters on the staircase and in the foyer. "You're all gonna see me leave?"

"Of course we are," Theo said.

"It's not everyday that your only grandchild is going away to college!" Tessa added.

Zick smiled. "Thanks guys…"

After turning back around, he wrapped his arms around his mother. "Call us whenever you stop at a gas station or hotel," she said.

"Don't worry, I will," he said, kissing her on the cheek before doing the same with his father.

"If you need help or anything else, you know who to go to, right?"

"Of course I do, Dad," he replied, moving on to Timothy and his grandparents.

"You know you're in our hearts," Theo told him.

"If we still _had_ hearts, that is," his grandmother replied with a wink.

He let out a chuckle as he looked down at the maximum tutor, who informed him, "I've known you for pretty much all your life, so this must be as heartbreaking to me to see you go as it is to your parents. It isn't going to be nowhere the same without you here, I'll tell you that… Good luck, Zick."

"I'm glad to know that," said Zick as he gave him a goodbye hug and turned his attention to the detention oasis' monsters.

In response, the monsters dogpiled him. "We'll miss you!" they yelled.

"I'll miss you too," Zick responded as each and every one of them got up from the floor. "Oh! And that reminds me…"

Zick ran out of the house. A few seconds later, he returned, holding a box. "Elena left a couple of days ago," he said before giving it to Bombo, "but we both want you to have this. Think of it as a sort of goodbye gift…"

Opening it, the monster found a favorite treat of his. Gleefully, he ate the old, tattered pair of sneakers and replied, "Thanks, Zick!"

He laughed. "No problem…"

Looking at his watch, though, Zick became less enthusiastic. "Yow—if I want to make at least a quarter of the trip, I'm gonna have to leave now!" he cried as he opened the front door. 

"You're still my baby as soon as you turn that car on, Zick!" Greta yelled.

"And I still will be by the next time I visit. See you in the holidays, everyone!"

"See you too, son," Zob said, "Good luck on your trip!"

"Bye, guys!" Zick called, waving as he went towards the car.

"Goodbye!" everyone said, waving as well until the car and Zick disappeared from their sight.

Greta wrapped her arms around Zob's waist, crying. "Our baby's on his own now…"

Zob gave her a kiss. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Knowing what a good job you did with him, I know he'll be just fine."

Greta smiled. "Thank you…"

As the wind started to blow, kicking some fallen leaves up in the process, Zob closed the door, allowing life to resume in the house with a crucial member missing…

THE END

A/N: I'm currently working on my second theme; it will come as soon as possible. Until then, thanks for reading, and have a good day!

Bye, y'all!

LM Simpson


	2. Composite Sketch

**Composite Sketch**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: You know it.

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): (Throws toast to A1 and A2 in A n A Productions) Thanks for making a certain little red panda very happy!

To tell y'all the truth, I actually wrote this last week. Yes, last week. So, just _why _the heck have I not updated? Well, let's just say tenth grade is eating up my free time; school _is _first after all, so I try to update whenever possible. Sometimes it's just quicker than usual, other times it's vice versa…

Enjoy!

**Theme Three: Laws of Variation**

0000

Zob looked at Greta, ready to ask her a question he had been ready to ask her for quite a while. Taking a deep breath, he finally said: "Hey, Greta…"

"Yes?"

"What do you think the baby will look like?"

"Easy—he'll look like a baby!" Greta said with a sly smile.

"Greta, I'm serious."

"Okay, then, I really don't know. _But… _I do have a small… 'Theory,' of sorts…"

"Theory?" Zob repeated. "What sort of theory?"

"Well…" she said, "I've noticed something: girls tend to look more like their mothers, and boys their fathers. I mean, I've seen some old photographs of my mother and she kinda looked like me to some degree…"

"Hmm… Say, remember how Teddy was born with really dark hair?"

"Yes… but it all fell out a few months afterwards and when it grew back it came out blond. And even before then, he looked pretty close to Terrence; the hair just made it more obvious. Then again—the baby _does _get half its genes from each parent, right? For all I know, Teddy has Joanna's skin type. Y'know—how she tends to get freckles?"

"So, you're saying the baby will probably look more like me because it's gonna be a boy?"

"Only probably," Greta said, "you never know—genetics are a very funny thing, and I'm definitely not an expert. For all I know, he could be born looking like me, you or some completely different person with only the same eye color or something."

"But you still think he'll look more like me?"

"Most likely, Zob, most likely."

"I'm still gonna go with the other one."

"Does it sound like you want to make a bet with me?" she asked with a sense of curiousness in her voice.

Zob looked at her for a brief time before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, we have nothing to do, so…Sure, why not?"

"Alright then… The loser has to change the baby's diaper _and_ get up in the middle of the night everyday for a month!"

"Deal!" Zob said before Greta grabbed a notebook and pen from a nearby desk.

"I want a hard copy," she said, beginning to write something, "That way, the loser won't try to take back what he said earlier. So, what was your bet again?"

"That the baby will look more like you."

"Oh, right, right…"

After finishing and signing her name, she handed the pen and paper to the expectant father. As Zob signed, she once again reiterated, "I still think he'll look more like you, give or take the nose."

Suddenly she cried out.

"Greta—"

"Baby kicked."

0000

Greta half-opened her eyes and shook Zob by the shoulder. "Zob," she sleepily said, "get up—the baby's crying again."

Zob turned over. "But honey—"

"You remember the deal. Now get up."

Groaning, Zob got up and walked to the other room. One day down, thirty more to go…

THE END

A/N: Okay, this was a short one… Well, I'm working on a few other chapters plus other projects, so I'll update whenever possible. Until then, though, have a great day, and _muchos gracias_ for reading.

Bye, y'all!

LM Simpson


	3. A Game of Life

**A Game of Life**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: The Game of Life and Monster Allergy are not owned by me, people…

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): (Throws toast to A1 in A n A Productions) Thanks again! "Composite Sketch" was pretty fun to write (especially because of all the little refs and such I added in it LOL), so to know that someone else really liked it made my day when I got the review.

This one is more serious than the last one. The version of the game referenced here is (hopefully) the 70's and 80's had (i.e. the one Zob would've been most likely playing when he was a kid). (According to Wikipedia, one of the revisions made to the game in the 1992 was that the bankrupt space was replaced with some place called Countryside Acres.)

Also, I would like y'all to try to identify what is the strong and the ephemeral (short lasting), as well as the significance of the forget-me-nots. I'll identify the former two after the story, but as for the flowers… you're on your own there, though there is a hint that concerns the flowers' color and symbolism…

Enjoy!

**Theme 26: The Strong and Ephemeral**

0000

The more he thought about it, the more Zob was reminded of the Game of Life.

The game's life was simple: to simulate a person's life after high school. That meant college, jobs, taxes, marriage, kids… the whole nine yards up to retiring and dying either a millionaire or some bankrupt loser. He remembered playing it a couple of times when he was a kid, mostly with Terrence, until both became quickly bored with it (too many numbers and took too long), and moved on to Monopoly, checkers or cops and robbers (depending on just how bored they were). Obviously, it was just a game, intended to be harmless fun and could be stopped whenever one wanted to.

But the game of life that Zob was playing was anything but. He was in the middle of his own game, and this time, he could not stop playing until he was completely finished. He had already acquired a wife, a kid, taxes, and just about everything else he could in the game, including retirement. Well, just about everything else… but his own death.

Zob was especially reminded of this as he placed the bunch of flowers against the headstone: forget-me-nots, the last flower she worked on before ending _her _game. It was a shame she could not see them now, as she clearly did a wonderful job with them: he was convinced that that was the best shade of blue he had ever seen on one.

Taking a step back, he allowed Zick to pay respects to her. His son responded by placing a bouquet of roses next to the other flowers. Both then said goodbye to her, and left the cemetery.

As Zick was driving his father back home, Zob posed him a question: "Hey, um… Son?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"If anything happens to me, you're not going to put me in a retirement home, are you?"

Zick sounded offended as he responded, "Of course not! You're my dad, not some old toy I grew out of when I got older!"

"Zick, I'm not kidding. Please tell me—no, _promise _me—that you're not going to put me in a retirement home, or any other house for that matter."

He stopped the car, having reached his destination. "Dad, you know that as long as I'm around that's _never _going to happen. Just promise me that you won't get yourself harmed, okay?"

"I promise," Zob said back, opening the car door. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, son; don't forget to call me later. I love you…"

"Love you too, Dad," he replied, smiling.

And with that, Zick drove to his home and Zob entered his own. He ignored everyone and everything he passed by, got into his bedroom, and plopped onto his bed. Rotating his head, he stared at an old picture of Greta and him when they were on their honeymoon. Both were young, hopelessly in love, and ready for whatever the future threw at them.

He smiled. That woman sure did _something _to him. Whether it was softening him, making him stronger, or a mixture of both, he wasn't completely sure. But he knew that although he had been through many trials throughout his life, losing her was the worst one; the only one that would've been harder to live through was losing Zick as well.

If only he could've finished his game of life with her…

Still staring at the photo, he suddenly had the feeling he wasn't the only one in the room. He sat up in the bed and turned his head right. No way… It was—

"Greta…? Is that you?"

"Of course it is," Greta's spirit replied. "I didn't really want you to spend the rest of your life lonely and miserable, you know? You're certainly not the person to deserve that…"

Zob had to fight to contain himself. Smiling, a tear of joy rolled down a cheek. It looked like he was going to finish the game with her by his side after all…

THE END

A/N: Figured it out? I'll just put up the summary I'm thinking for my LJ posts for the answer: "Life is brief, but a love so strong never ends."

I have another entry to the challenge (plus a couple of other things for other projects) already completed; as soon as they're edited and typed, they will be online as soon into the future as possible. Until then, have a good day, and thanks muchly for reading.

Bye, y'all!

LM Simpson


	4. Paper Cut

**Paper Cut**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: (whines) DOIHAVETOSTATETHEOBVIOUS?

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): (throws toast to AB Victorina) Thanks for the review!

Sorry the long delay; I've just been having mighty writers block for most of my current fanfiction projects lately. From this fic on, however, this collection will be rated T because some of the subject matter of the prompts isn't actually G-rated. Apart from the fact that there is almost no fic for ZobxGreta, one of the reasons I chose the pairing for this challenge was due to some of the prompts, like this one: "_I want to know how you slept with him, the way you held him. Every crevice through which my shadow may ink itself. The more I tell you of my happiness, the more unhappy I am. That you are not a part of it, that you do not covet it for yourself." _Yep, this is definitely a more pairing focuses challenge… LOL

The following drabble is an extended version of one of the drabbles in my Little Moments drabble collection (the one where Zob is reading a porno), by the way, so some of that prose is going to be present towards the end…

Enjoy!

**Theme Thirty-Three: This is how your desire tangles with a desired one**

0000

_Ever feel that men and women are so different, that they can be called different species? Men and women have their own clothes, magazines, bathrooms, even body shape. Such differences can lead to some very nasty battles of the sexes. This is one such story._

_Meet Zobedja Zick, species _Homo sapiens sapiens maliens_, and his lovely wife Greta Barrymore, species _Homo sapiens sapiens femaliens_. Normally, they're a wonderful couple, with a son to boot. But when it comes to a particular difference between their gender's items, not everything is fine and merry…_

0000

"Greta!" Zob yelled as she walked out of the house and towards a trash can with a bundle in her arms. "Please don't do this!"

"Sorry, Zob, but I warned you a million times, I've talked with you about this, and every single time has been in vain. They have got to go!"

She opened the container and dumped the magazines into it. Then, she reached into her pocket, removed a matchbox, placed a matchstick near the strike side, and…

"Please, Greta, don—"

Too late—she dropped the match into the can, and flame spread on everything; ash occasionally flew away in the air as Zob followed her to the house.

"Y'know," he said, "I don't try to burn your Cosmos and Good Housekeepings, Greta…"

"True, but unlike you, I'm not so obsessed with them that I lock myself in the bathroom to do nothing but look at absolute trash. Let's face it, Zob—you're addicted."

"No, I'm not."

"Ooooh, yes you are! You just don't want to admit it, that's all…"

Unamused, Zob split from Greta by taking the stairs to their room.

0000

"Hey, Terrence?" Zob said on the phone a while later, "You know that… 'collection' you have?"

"The one with Playboy, Penthouse and a couple of those hardcore ones from 1970 to present? Yeah, 'course I do. Why are you asking?"

"Well… Do you mind if I borrow a couple of them?"

"Just a couple? Heck, you can have all of them!"

"All of them?!" Zob was incredulous. "Why all of them?"

The other end of the line was quiet as Terrence was remembering just why he was going to give Zob his entire collection…

_It was the night before. While he was watching television upstairs, Joanna was upstairs trying to put Teddy to bed._

"_Alright, honey," Joanna said, "what story do you want me to read to you tonight?"_

_Teddy pulled back the covers, dived under his bed, and came out with a magazine that was definitely not for little children. "I wanna know what this book Daddy was reading while he was waiting for me to sleep me is about, Mommy! Why does the lady have no clothes on?"_

_Mommy only stared in shock before shrieking, "TERRENCE! GET UP HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"_

After looking for a decent way to summarize the entire story, he only replied, "Long story…"

0000

The next day, the foyer was full of boxes and boxes of Terrence's magazines. Zob felt like he had hit the jackpot as he looked at the paper gold.

"Let's see… August 1991… September 1975… March 1986… December 1992…" He embraced the collection. "I love you, Terrence… Greta is especially not going to burn these issues…"

Zob got up. "Be right back," he said to the boxes, "I'm just going to hide these and figure out what to do with you guys…"

When he got back downstairs, however, he saw Greta at the door, looking down at the boxes and with Zick on her hip. "Zob… What is this?" she asked before crouching down and flipping one of the flaps of a box to examine the contents. Discovering the collection, her eyes were aflame with rage and she placed Zick on the floor, threw all of the boxes outside, and stormed out. Zob had no choice but to watch Greta strike a match and set his entire collection aflame once again.

_Note to self- get a safe and hide it well! _He thought as Greta came in and scooped Zick just before he got too close to the stairs.

0000

Zob found the safe just where he last left it, brought it to his room and hoped this was the right safe combination as he tired to open it; it had been ages since he last used it. It clicked, and he opened it. Bingo! They were exactly as they were the last time he saw them.

He took one out and blew the dust off the cover. December 1992. Slowly, he opened the magazine and chuckled. _Well I'll be—I actually remember some of this stuff! Hmm, maybe I should try to buy the latest one when Greta isn't around… _

Suddenly, he heard a sound: footsteps. And they were coming closer to his bedroom!

Zob panicked. What if Greta was coming? If she found out his little secret, she would take the stash away and trash it, or even worse, burn it like she did every time…

As the door opened, Zob pushed the safe's door into place and slid the issue under the bed.

It was Zick. "Mom and me can't find the spade. 'Got any idea where it is?"

"N-n-no," he replied before chuckling nervously.

Zick left the room. Feeling the coast was clear, Zob closed the door and resumed reading. He became so spellbound by the pictures, he did not realize Greta had come in until he heard her screech:

"ZOB! Is that what I think it is?"

His mouth was dry; he opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Answer me, Zob!"

Zob tried again. This time, out came "Y-y-yes, Greta…"

"Give me that," she said. Defeated, Zob gave her the issue. "I want every single one too, Zob…"

"That is the only one!"

"Then just what's that safe? I've never seen it before in my entire life…"

And with that, the entire small stash of magazines went through the same ceremony the earlier issues underwent. Zob had to fight to pull himself together as Zick and he watched the flames and the occasional charred scrap flying out of the trash can.

"Come back in, Zob," Greta said as she tugged him on the arm. "You too, Zick…" Zick turned away from the remains of the inferno that had just occurred and gulped as he followed his parents back into the house.

THE END

A/N: Thanks for reading! I got a couple of others in progress, so until they're uploaded, have a good day!

Bye, y'all!

LM Simpson


	5. The Bouquet

**The Bouquet**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: If this was canon, it wouldn't be here. Seriously.

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): Man, writing fics for this challenge is actually pretty hard. Don't worry, though, I don't plan on giving up anytime soon…

Enjoy!

**Theme Four: To cut a bouquet of matter and antimatter roses**

0000

"Hey, Dad," Zick asked while his mother was in the greenhouse, "Are you going to get Mom anything for Valentine's Day?"

"I'm planning to; I'll probably get her some chocolates or a card, something like that…"

"You do know what day it is then, right?"

Zob shook his head. Zick pointed at the calendar. Zob glanced at it and noticed that the first twelve days had been crossed out.

"What time is it again, son?" he asked nervously.

"Around the time most of the stores are starting to close…"

As soon as Zick said that, his father dashed out of the house; he heard the car engine start and rev almost immediately afterwards. While the son found himself alone in the kitchen, Zob was attempting to drive close or just at the speed limit and check the clock at the same time.

_Come on, Zob, _he thought to himself, _you're close to the nearest store; you're gonna do it, you're gonna do it…_

"…I DIDN'T DO IT!" he said early the next morning.

"Didn't do what, Dad?"

"By the time I go to all the stores in Oldmill with valentine's stuff, they were either closed or out of stock. I even went to a couple of shops in Bigburg and it was the same story! What am I going to do, Zick?"

"I don't know," he answered, "The only reason I did valentines is because my teacher is making us do them for everyone in my class. "

"Well, think of something!"

"You thought of flowers yet?"

Zob's eyes widened. He then slowly shook his head before staring at his son with a crooked smile.

"Uh, Dad… Are you okay?"

"So… What am I doing again?" Zick asked in front of the flower shop a short while later.

"You're going to go in and ask your mom if she can cut you a bouquet for a 'certain someone.' That way, I will have something for her while I'm delivering other people's flower orders."

"But Dad, I don't have much money with me!"

"Don't worry! We own the store- she will either give you an employee discount or cut yours free, okay?"

Zick sighed. "Okay…" he replied as he entered the store.

0000

"So, did you get 'em, son?" Zob asked when he finished his shift.

Zick nodded. "Yep- I hid the bouquet under my bed."

"Good; she's coming in any second now; can you go up and get it right now?"

"Be right back!" he said as he ran upstairs.

Sure enough, when Greta arrived, in front of her were Zick and Zob, who was holding a bouquet of red roses.

"Oh, my…" she said as Zob handed her the bunch.

"Like it?"

"Of course I do! Hmm… I know this sounds strange, but it also looks a little familiar to me for some reason…"

"YOU'VE NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE!" Zob said.

Greta stared at him. "What was that for, Zob?"

"Oh, uh… Nothing, nothing…" he said with a nervous chuckle before changing the subject. "Do you, uh, want to go see a movie right now? Y'know, just the two of us?"

"… When's the next showing?"

"… Be right back!" he ran to the living room, and came back skimming through the movie listings. Pointing to one, he asked her, "Does this sound good to you?"

"I've actually been wanting to see that for a while… If we're going to see it, we're going to have to get on our way immediately, though…"

"Then what are you waiting for, Greta? Let's go!

"Timothy, you're babysitting tonight!" Zob called out as the two of them left.

A while after the door shut and his parents had driven away, Zick stood in the foyer, processing what had just happened. Then, when he realized what this meant, he yelled, "PARTY!"

THE END

A/N: I hope y'all had a happy Valentine's Day; thanks for reading!

Bye, y'all!

LM Simpson


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